If I Only Could
by Ashley Summers
Summary: There were two things I was sure of in that moment: the first being that I going to die, and the second one being that I was making it count. It was a good death – noble, even. I didn't want to go; there were still years I wanted to live—places I wanted to see—things I wanted to say. But most of all, there was one person I wanted to see: the one who promised that I can't hurt him.


_**IF I ONLY COULD  
**__by Ashley Summers_

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**Opening note:** _Welcome! If you are like me, than you like to know what you are getting yourself into when starting a fanfiction, so here we go: _If I only Could_ begins some… seven or eight months after the Guardians movie, as well as throughout the duration of Elsa's growing up, starting around the time she was nine – you'll see what I mean. This ignores the entire _Frozen_ movie canon nigh entirely, but sticks with the storyline of events and the purpose of them fairly close. So while the details are changed, the big picture will remain the same._

_Unlike the stories I typically write on other sites, this one is canon characters only. I will give my very best to characterize properly, but feel free to point out where the characters stray from their true nature of behaviour. I loved both _Frozen_ and _Guardians_ so this will be not just all "romance" (although there is plenty of that ahead, I give you my word)! I want to speculate on what would happen should Elsa have met someone much like herself in her younger years – where she would take her life and how she would turn out to be._

_Now, a lot of you may expect the promised "romance" to go off right off the top, but this is a slow built because remember, this begins when Elsa was around nine – so that would just be… gross. Besides, someone with such a dark, lonely past needs someone to look up to, first; a friend, a mentor, a confidant – plus I hate stories where people fall in love right off the bat; it's just too unreal and sappy. The pairings will come, but be patient, my friends – patience is a virtue, after all._

**Story details:**  
_**Title:**__ If I Only Could  
__**Rating:**__ T for now, but if readers are nice enough, I might rise it, or just make a separate one-shot under an M rating.  
__**Disclaimer:**__ Frozen and Rise of the Guardians, as well as all the characters therein do not belong to me. The cover photo is not mine either, and the fanart that originally inspired this fic, all three, are posted on my profile. Credit goes to the respective sources.__  
__**Warnings/Spoilers:**__ This story contains spoilers for both movies, and if you haven't watched either, that you don't even belong in this archive. So if you haven't already, go watch the movies, then come back again. Also, Elsa's childhood is not a colorful one, so there are themes in here that may trigger unpleasant memories in some people. Please be mature about it, and understand that though there is no domestic violence, negligence is just as much abuse as beating. Please note that I have nothing against Christianity (my best friend since the cradle is Catholic) but the Catholic church eventually comes into play here, for the sake of history accuracy. I mean no disrespect to anybody's religion and beliefs.  
__**Pairings:**__ [Jack/Elsa], [Anna/Kristoff].  
__**Special Thanks:**__ Thank you in advance to every single one of you for choosing to give me a chance to prove myself. Thank you to anyone who adds me to any of their listings, as well as anyone who takes the time to review, be it prizes or flames – I take both._

_PS.: You'll see that this chapter is very short. This is because it is a prologue; my typical chapter length of comfort is between four and six thousand words, so you are looking at nice and long reads, I promise._

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_**IF I ONLY COULD**__  
_Chapter 1 / Prologue

"_We face the path of time… and yet we fight."_  
- Alice in Chains

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_Every story has a marked beginning. Mine begins hundreds of years ago, in the dead of a winter night. I was created, not born; created by the most powerful of beings – created to serve and protect all that is precious. My task was to watch over the Moon's children, all those who are equal beneath its endless light—to shelter and treasure the most innocent of creations – those in whose eyes the world lays, burning with wonder and beauty and life: children. I was one of those who were honored with carrying on the legacy of my father; the father who had been silent for hundreds of years, only to show me the path meant for me in my own time. A father I had not heard from until now, but a father nonetheless._

_But before my place in the world was revealed to me, they came. A family of three, small human children, seemingly without any specialty: two sisters, and an orphan who had found a home with them. That was where the real change in my story came. For better or worse, I still don't know. And maybe I never will, but I had learned to accept that over the years._

_These three children had taught me about fate, about destiny, about the right to choose – a concept once foreign to me, my only job being to protect, not decide. After the years of solitary confinements, I was so drawn to the idea of free will and choosing the path which my life will follow, the fate I will take—I realize now that such a luxury is both humanity's greatest gift, and a person's worst curse – a terrible burden that haunts your every waking hour. Had I known then what I know now, maybe I would choose a different path – maybe I would take it all back._

_Comparing now who I once was to the man I am now, I myself find it hard to believe that we are one and the same. And to be honest, I'm not sure I like this person that I have become. And having spent these centuries observing humans, I only too late realized I know nothing of being one._

_I've tried to make the right choices—tried every day to protect these fleeting, fragile humans, who are no more than children in my eyes, that have become so important to me – and her, always her – but thinking back now, I have to admit I've failed._

_I've failed to watch over them; I've failed to look after them; I've failed to _protect_ those which were precious._

_But of all the people that I have failed, I've failed her the most._

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**Late November 2013  
Five miles outside of Burgess, Indiana**

"You know…" the man began, strolling slow, calm circles around the teen. His yellow eyes bore into the younger spirit, a narcissistic grin spreading over his ash face. A low rumble came from within his chest as he recalled the days. "… I once met someone very much like yourself." The younger spirit frowned suspiciously, his chilled eyes narrowing as he turned sharply, refusing to let the dark creature out of his sight.

"Is that so?" He spat, ready to dismiss the pointless games and get to business. But the shadowed ghost was not done. His vile grin only widened, his eyes drifting to memory. The boy before him was in a crouch, knees bent, the shepherd staff, that was as much a part of him as his hands, poised and ready to strike.

"Oh yes. You see, though human, she possessed a power not unlike you own." At this, the teen huffed out a dismissive chuckle, opening his mouth to call out the other's bluff. But he was cut off before he could make a sound. "But she was merely a child, you see – and you know how prone children are to fear. She, too, sacrificed a great deal for the sake of her little sister."

The pale spirit gasped at the mention of a younger sibling, an instant stab of pain settling deep within his heart. These mind games he could understand. This _was_, after all, the spirit of darkness and despair – the spirit of fear. But this was low even by the vile creature's standards.

"Not the same way as you, I mean. You only died so that your sister would live." The blue-eyed boy gasped, a pale hand flying to his heart on instinct, to protect the freshly torn scars of memory. In the past months, with his memories slowly but surely surfacing, he found himself wishing more and more that some would remain a mystery. The dark lord went on still, mercilessly, his voice, though weak, was cool and collected, the perfect tone to send a rare chill down the teen's back. The rumble was in his chest once again, satisfied at the sharp reaction.

It was something of a game, for the past months. Masochistic and perverse, but over the years of solitude, they truly did understand each other better than the rest. The moon-blue eyed ghost would come to get a rise out of the dark lord. Instead, he walked away with freshly torn wounds. Nevertheless, it was a lot more than any of his self imposed 'family' could ever provide. They had to pretend recognition, and while here he got nothing but pain, he also got a real understanding – however twisted it may have been.

"But she… oh, she was something really special. She was _afraid_. And every day she died a little inside so that hers would be safe… from herself," he taunted, smirking in amusement.

The boy's eyes narrowed, and then widened, all but at once and he gripped the staff in his pale hands tighter. His throat suddenly turned to sandpaper as the shadowed ghost's words. He gave a small, weak shake of his head, breathing heavily, dryly.

"Don't," was all his voice could manage before it broke like the ice that had claimed his life all those centuries ago. The dark lord's sadistic smile grew, reminding the typically joyous boy that he had all but _asked_ for this.

"_Ah_… so I see you've met. Then again, I shouldn't really be surprised. You were alone for so long – if I were in your place, I wouldn't help myself either." He laughed then – a cold, dead sound, dry and old as time. "So _young_; innocent, and full of hope, and _light_!" he laughed, throwing his leather clad arms up in the air, turning to face the endless ceiling in sadistic joy. "Oh the _grand_ time the two of us could have had! And to think, all that power… gone to waste."

"I said _shut up_!" The cold spirit raged, screaming in all the fury he could conjure before throwing himself at the elder man in a fiery hatred, a rabid gust of wind carrying him as he bellowed in anger. Though weakened, the dark lord easily slipped back into the shadows, evading the blow with an animal-like grace which he had perfected over the centuries of his reign—like an elegant dance. The teen slammed into the hard, cold, dark grey rock with a great force, bouncing against the ground and rolling forward several yards before skidding into the cold stone wall where he laid motionless—weak.

A crackling laugh never let silence set in as it echoed throughout the low-lit cave. It rang out, all but shattering the dark walls to rubble as the cold spirit tried to get up to his knees in pain. But the force of the collision had taken its toll on his body and he fell back down, numb in pain as though he had been struck by dark magic.

"Ah-ah-ah… Might want to be careful," the shadow king chuckled, revealing himself once again from a dark corner – materializing from nothing at all. "Don't want to hurt ourselves, now do we?" The ghostly spirit's response was a groan of pain, but through it he pushed himself up to his hands and knees weakly, panting heavily. But that was all he could manage and he so he stayed, holding himself up by threads, his elbows ready to give away under his weight. "You know… I would imagine someone like you could at least keep a single child safe. And admittedly, you did try – she told me so herself. But I'll share a little secret with you: the more time you spend helping her, the more terrified she grew. With all the promises you've made and all the words you've given to her, it's a wonder the poor thing hadn't succumbed to the darkness surrounding you long before."

"_Stop_…" the boy pleaded now, whimpering as tears filled his eyes once again. This was a common practice, the dark lord drawing tears from the youth so mercilessly, feeding from his weakness a little every day. And the spirit would take it silently, letting the mockery go on, letting the trips down memory lane continue like they were nothing. But this was overstepping that invisible boundary they had set all those months ago. This has gone too far, even for the king of fear. "… Please…" This only drew another round of dry, cold laughter.

"She was afraid… of _you_," the elder ghost smiled, amused, relishing in the youth's reaction. He came up to a low crouch before the frozen teen, placing a mockingly gentle hand on his blue sweater. The boy, in turn, flinched away though he's been struck in the face, falling to the cold floor and, for the first time in his life, shivered as a result. For the first time in all his centuries… the cold hurt. "And you did _nothing_ but magnify that fear, until she finally gave up." In the voice of a cooing predator, the dark lord hissed a single word into the winter spirit's ear, and the Guardian of joy broke in two, the tear he's been struggling to keep in his eyes spilling over, trickling down his cheeks in small, freezing droplets. He crumbled around himself, curling up into the fatal position, and sobbed. His staff forgotten and consequences ignored, he cried out his heart wrenching pain into the sleeves of his hoodie.

He couldn't know this – not the dark lord, not any of his fellow friends, not anyone. No soul, living or dead, could know any of this. And yet, the shadow master knew – he knew it all, somehow. And the Nightmare King was right, he realized then – he was right about it all. In all of it, there was only one truth: Jack Frost had killed the Snow Queen.

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**Closing note:**_ And so thus concludes the first chapter! Incredibly short, but I had to get the ball rolling with a little introduction. In case you are wondering, yes, the monologue in the beginning is Jack in first person. I'll be adding it in every one in a while._

_**Some of the of the dialogue in this chapter came from a wonderful gif set I found a while back, and even though I changed it up here and there to personalize it some, I only take the credit for the changes I've made in it; the original dialogue is __theirs. I have the gif set on my profile, along with the other two arts that inspired this fic, so check it out.__**  
**_


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